


I was high, I was hiding

by leave_a_message_at_the_tone



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Emotional, Its nice, M/M, Marijuana, Mental Breakdown, Stanlon - Freeform, The Losers' Club - Freeform, im cool with however you want to interpret it, just Stan and mike being super platonic, platonic, you could make it romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 07:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13654092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leave_a_message_at_the_tone/pseuds/leave_a_message_at_the_tone
Summary: Knock, knock, knock. “Stan?” Mike placed his head against the door to see if he could hear anyone in the room and heard a very soft noise. Mike stood up straight, “I’m coming in.” He turned the doorknob, and the door swung wide open.Mike stepped into the, strangely unlocked, bathroom. Immediately, he noticed there was no one in sight, but a soft noise coming from the bathtub, “Stan? Is that y-?” Mike pulled away the shower curtain to reveal a dishevelled Stan, sitting – knees to his chest – in the bathtub, tears pouring down his pale face.





	I was high, I was hiding

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU. Some quality platonic stanlon based on the song Why by Skinny Living. Except, less suicide, more just getting super jazzed on weed and having a mental breakdown. I have never done weed, so I’ll shy away from trying to describe the feeling. But, Stan is coming down from his high and realising some shit. Mike is helping him through his mini-breakdown.
> 
> Word count: 1, 484

Mike was walking through Richie’s house. It was always oddly quiet in Riche’s house. Richie and Bev were in the backyard, getting very high. Richie really liked to make getting stoned a group activity. Most of the Losers enjoyed getting stoned – excluding Eddie, who was not down for smoking… anything at all, really, and Ben and Bill, who just didn’t want to engage in the recreational activity on most occasions. Whenever Richie wanted to get high, he’d invite over at least Bev and Stan. Mike only recently invited to join the club of regular stoners. Mike didn’t know where Richie’s family went on the nights they came over, and he didn’t think Richie knew, either.

Mike had left the group in search of Stan, who had gone inside half an hour ago; Stan had told the group he “needed to piss.” Mike didn’t know if anyone else had noticed Stan’s lengthy absence, or if they had gotten distracted, as they so easily do, and forgotten that Stan was even attending the event. When Mike had told Richie and Bev that he was going to go look for Stan, Richie had told him not to worry. Richie said that Stan often disappears from their That 70’s Show-reminiscent circle after getting high. They never really knew where Stan went, and they never wanted to ask. Mike didn’t want to accept that, though, and was now making his way to Richie’s bathroom. As Mike made his way down the main corridor of Richie’s slightly rundown house, he spotted the door to the bathroom.

Approaching the door, Mike reaches out his hand. Knock, knock. “Hey, Stan? You in there, buddy? You left a while ago, are you okay?” Mike spoke softly through the door. They were out of earshot of Beverly and Richie’s noisy shenanigans, so if Stan was really in the bathroom, he would be able to hear Mike’s calming voice clearly. There was no response, though. Mike reached out his hand again. Knock, knock, knock. “Stan?” Mike placed his head against the door to see if he could hear anyone in the room and heard a very soft noise. Mike stood up straight, “I’m coming in.” He turned the doorknob, and the door swung wide open. 

Mike stepped into the, strangely unlocked, bathroom. Immediately, he noticed there was no one in sight, but a soft noise coming from the bathtub, “Stan? Is that y-?” Mike pulled away the shower curtain to reveal a dishevelled Stan, sitting – knees to his chest – in the bathtub, tears pouring down his pale face. 

Stan’s darkish hair was falling in his blood-red eyes. As soon as those red eyes met Mike’s, Stan cowered, hiding his face in his hands and crying louder than before, “Why’re you here, Mike? Why’re you here? No one ever comes looking for me. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this! I didn’t want you to see me like this!”

Stan’s unsteady and cracking voice hit Mike like a bullet to his chest, sending Mike staggering back a few steps, and causing tears to begin swelling in his eyes as he saw one of his dearest friend’s true, hidden sadness laid out before him, “Stan...” Mike’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry for intruding. There… there’s no shame in crying. You shouldn’t feel bad about letting yourself be vulnerable in front of me, you can trust me.” Stan looked up, making eye contact with Mike, “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to, and I’ll leave if you want me to, as well.” Stan didn’t say anything, “Do you want me to stay?”

Stan nodded gently, and with a cracking voice said, “Yes. Yes, please, Mike. I… can’t be alone right now. I… need your help. I can’t get through this alone...” Stan moved to the edge of the bathtub, still facing Mike, but looking down at his knees, and moved to pat the place in the bathtub next to him, “Come sit with me, Mike.” 

Mike slowly crawled into the tub, curling up next to Stan; there was barely enough room for both of them, “Stan… you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Don’t feel pressu-”

“Please be quiet,” Stan said. His voice was soft and seemed a little broken. Mike knew that Stan didn’t mean to offend, and so Mike didn’t take offence, he knew that sometimes a comfortable silence was best for the soul. They sat in silence for a long time, Stan leant over and placed his head on Mike’s shoulder. It was nice, Stan’s curly hair kind of tickled Mike’s neck, but he didn’t move. The feeling of closeness was comfortable, “I’m scared, Mike. I’m fucking terrified,” Stan let out a dry chuckle, “I… don’t know what’s happening, like, all the time. I feel like my world is crumbling. There are so many… bad things in this world. There is so much cruelty, for people like you and I. There’s so much hatred, for people who wouldn't even try to know us as people. I’m scared of… of what they could do to me.”

Stan took a long, shaky breath, and Mike felt tears roll down his face, and off his chin. Now, all they were was a pair of damaged, stoned teenagers crying in a bathtub. Mike didn’t reach up to wipe his eyes, he knew that he needed this. “You know, Stan. I… I know you’re right. I’ve never tried to deny the fact that people will always judge me before they know me. You and I, we’re always going to have people who judge us before they know anything about us.” Stan was sobbing loudly, and staring at Mike, who turned to stare back at the boy. As they made eye contact, Mike could see the dull and broken blackness behind Stan’s eyes. He showed Stan a sad smile, “But… um… at least we have each other.”

Stan’s eyes began to shimmer, a tiny tinge of hope began to show, “I… thank you, Mike. Thank you so much. Thank you,” Stan turned his body and wrapped his arms around Mike’s torso, almost knocking Mike over, and kissed him on the forehead, “Thank you so much, Mike.”

Mike felt his face heating up, as he hugged Stan back, “We’ve only got each other, Stan. We’ve only got ourselves. You’ve got Richie, Bill, Ben, Eddie, Beverly. You’ve got me, too. We all know what it’s like to be beaten down. Please don’t ever think you’re alone.” Mike pulled away from the boy, and, placing his forehead against Stan’s, looked deep into Stan’s eyes. The boy’s eyes were now shiny, not only with tears but with a new kind of happiness, “You know I love you, right? Stan, you are a gorgeous, intelligent, amazing young man. Please, do not ever let anyone tell you anything else. You deserve the world. I get… I get that sometimes the world will beat you down until you are nothing but a squishy blob of flesh and regret. Just remember all the good stuff, remember me. Okay?”

Stan nodded, “Okay,” His voice was quiet, but it didn’t seem as fragile as before. It would be hard for Mike to tell anyone how long they stayed in the tub for. Though Richie would happily tell anyone who asked, and even some who didn’t, about how he found them both asleep in the tub after Beverly left at three o’clock in the morning and Richie had decided to take a shower. Waking the boys up, only for them to be staring at an almost-nude Richie laughing his arse off and asking, “How long have you even been in here? Oh, my fuck!” Stan had blushed and started to yell profanities at Richie, while Mike almost ruptured a lung laughing.

Although Richie constantly berated Mike and Stan, making sexual jokes and teasing them, Mike would never regret the night that he and Stan spent in Richie’s bathtub. Ever since that night, as well, Stan’s never run away from the group again, at least not without Mike. He opened up about how he had been feeling, and everyone was very supportive and understanding. Everyone knows that each Loser has their own trouble, and Stan was glad that the others supported him through his mental issues and insecurities. Still, Mike has sort of become Stan’s impulse control, and whenever Stan begins to fall into one of his dark moods, he knows that Mike and the other Losers are there to catch him. 

Stan seems a lot happier now, he smiles a lot more, he laughs harder than Mike’s ever seen, and he always has that bright glint in his eyes, the glint that Mike saw that night. Mike will always feel thankful that Stan opened up to him, and Stan will always be thankful that Stan rescued him that night.


End file.
